


Thank You Letter

by orphan_account



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:57:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 'A Voice in the Dark', Runner 5 pays Sam back for his confessions... With a letter.  Five/Sam if you squint your eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thank You Letter

**Author's Note:**

> So, this version of Runner 5 is a lot like me, but is not me. I wrote this letter in my head while I was running. I'm WeeBoy on zombie link. Only up to mission 14.

Dear Sam,

You saved my life man. Really, I was going to give up. I was so tired, and so cold, and so freaked out by what we’ve become. God, how did people end up like this Sam, how?

But anyway, I was doing to find a nice high cliff, or some water, and end it all. I didn’t want to get bit – I couldn’t make you guys kill me too.

But you saved me. I really, really didn’t want to let you down Sam. I had to get home, for you.  
Sounds pretty sappy, doesn’t it. But hey, we’ve had a sappy night. You put a lot out there, you really did. Even if you thought I was dead. Turn about’s fair play I suppose, but I sure as hell can’t say this to your face.

You now a little about me, I suppose. Shortarse kiwi on an OE gone wrong. Military.

... Well, kind of military. Really, before the outbreak back home I was a territorial. Hardly the tough career soldier.

I’d just finished uni before I came out here. My Dad was the one who wanted me to go too, cos he never got the chance. He did pretty good for a guy who left school at fifteen – he wrote books. Real ‘On the Road’ type stuff. Race relations and the loss of social structure for a young man with no direction. Literary.

I wanted to be a writer too. But how could I? I’d spend my life being compared to my dad, most probably be found wanting. Even worse, what if I ended up being better than him? I couldn’t risk that. There was only room for one creative type in the family. He wanted me to go to university, and you didn’t need to go to university to write stories, he’d proved that.

So I went to uni, and I did PhysEd. Christ, what a cop out. I hated it. Everyone was so thick, all the jocks who just wanted to play sport. I got good marks sleeping through class. Played a lot of rugby.

You’re right, you know. It’s the not knowing which gets you.. I don’t know anything about how my family are. I don’t know anything about how New Zealand is coping with this epidemic.  
Maybe my family are dead.  
Maybe they’re holed up in a place like Abel.  
Maybe my mum is at home, watching the news and praying her wee boy is okay.  
I just don’t know.

 

At least I know about Dad. He died at the end of my second year at uni. Cancer. It destroyed my world – I’d had ninteen years of using him to direct my life, then he was gone. I measured what I should do by what he wanted me to do – it was like I was set adrift without a compass. I had no idea how to even make decisions for myself.  
That’s why I came to the UK. I hoped I’d find out what I was meant to do with my life.

Sam, I’ve never had anyone believe in me the way you do. And i am proud to know you, to be your friend, your Runner 5. Really really proud.

So thanks. For saving me. And for believing I could make it home.

And if you ever show this to anyone, I will fucking gut you.

 

Yours,

Runner 5.


End file.
